The Darcys
by jollypollypops
Summary: A re-telling of the events in Pride and Prejudice, starting with Georgiana's "romance" with Mr. Wickham.  Told primarily from the perspective of Mr. Darcy  in the 3rd person
1. Chapter 1

**Hello-and thanks for stopping in! This is my first ever chapter of my first ever fan fiction - and as such I will be very grateful for any constructive criticism you have to offer me! (Which is certainly not to say I won't enjoy compliments or other comments - but do be gentle).**

**This will focus on the Darcys. I will give Georgiana more depth - so please be honest if I'm taking too much liberty. I definitely want to stay true to the characters that Jane Austen created! You will also get to know Miss Younge much better as well as Mr. Wickham.**

**I will create a romance for Georgiana which did not exist in the original Pride and Prejudice, but that won't be until later. Of course, there will be _plenty _of Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet - so don't worry! It will be a couple chapters until we meet our favorite heroine, but she will get plenty of attention (from the point of view of our favorite hero this time).**

**I hope to make this a novel-length story. So far I have 17 chapters planned which go until Mr. Darcy's visit to Kent. I hope to cover all the events from the original book - but I'm not sure how far off track the story will take me. Already in my second chapter I've decided to do something very differently than what my original outline suggests! The rating will remain "K" as far as I know.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pride and Prejudice or any recognizable characters. They are all the creation of Jane Austen, may her memory live on!**

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><p><strong>I - A Girl at Fifteen<strong>

A young person at fifteen (_almost _sixteen), specifically one of the female sex, is said to possess every refinement necessary for an introduction to society. Prior to introduction, the only refinement lacking is experience in the tact one must utilize to facilitate successful repartee and, most importantly, to attract suitors.

Such was the object of Georgiana Darcy's summer prior to her sixteenth birthday. In six months, Miss Darcy was to be introduced into society during the London season. Her loving caregivers placed her in the amiable care of Miss Younge in order to perfect her countenance, music, dance, and other fine accomplishments in preparation for this momentous occasion. Should a young lady find herself lacking in these accomplishments, she should expect the censure and gossip of her more delicate and (and this goes without saying) _refined_ peers.

Miss Darcy could not be said to want in any of her accomplishments. Eager to please her relations, she spent each hour of her day in the useful employment of practicing the piano-forte, harp, languages, literature, stitching, interior decorating, botany, and dance - among several others. Her serene countenance and quiet patience charmed her elders such that they took extra care to protect those virtues which were so admirable in the highest circles of society. Miss Younge was thought to be an esteemed governess and during this particular summer her personal goal was to draw Georgiana out. During lessons, Miss Darcy's shy disposition prevented her from attempting anything at which she might fail, and Miss Younge feared that her charge might prove unimpressive indeed if she chose not to display any depth of character in society for fear that her character might be perceived to have flaws.

It was during such a lesson that we meet our two characters. Miss Younge and Miss Darcy had been sent to a pleasant seaside estate in a small village west of the Darcy family's primary estate in Derbyshire. Drawn outside by a sea breeze which was particularly calm today, the ladies were analyzing Sonnet 130 by William Shakespeare.

"Georgiana, you have a contemplative look about you. Do you find this sonnet to be unsettling in some way?"

The base of Miss Darcy's delicate and long neck betrayed embarrassment by the appearance of a pinkish tint, "Oh! No, Miss Younge! Master Shakespeare's sonnets are not unsettling, I should say. Yet, I am intrigued by his manner of..." here Georgiana stopped and looked down at her lap.

Miss Younge's eyebrow raised at her pupil's near success at attempting literary criticism, but upon Miss Darcy's sudden departure from her thought, the governess let out a sigh, "Miss Darcy, you cannot always falter mid-sentence. What were your thoughts just now, pray?"

Georgiana looked up from her lap timidly, "Miss Younge, I do have a peculiar reaction to this sonnet, but I fear that I might seem simple in relating it. What should some lady or gentleman think if my opinions are always so simple or silly? I cannot bear to be seen as such, and just the fear of it makes continuing my thoughts unbearable, every time!" Her cheeks were now burning as she foresaw those scenes of appearing simple and silly.

Never having much access to society apart from some aunts, uncles, cousins, and her elder brother's close friends, Georgiana could only imagine how judged she would be should she begin to speak opinions which perhaps were not so elevated. One of her brother's friends in particular, a Miss Caroline Bingley, was often overheard by Georgiana criticizing her peers in their lack of intelligent conversation. Georgiana knew she could not manage such harsh criticisms and had determined, therefore, it best to be quiet unless one could speak with absolute conviction.

Miss Younge, having always celebrated her own frank nature and thinking it to be one of her most valuable virtues, would not go soft at her pupil's tender apprehensions. "Sonnet 130 is one of Shakespeare's most debated sonnets. Some readers find it tender while others find it repulsive. I am sure your interpretation cannot be much simpler than base readings (though, certainly not scholarly). Finish your thought from earlier or we shall never make any progress, and then what will your brother think of you next season, let alone any eligible young men?"

There was the critical point, the ultimate fear in Miss Darcy's heart: the necessity to impress and converse in a stimulating manner to young men. Georgiana's gaze left her instructor's face and she gazed into the sea. Miss Younge's patience, now quite thin, spurred her to speak the following forcefully: "Well, I find this sonnet _shocking_," Miss Younge began with an air of confidence, "what is this man about in singing of his mistresses flaws? Were I the recipient of such sentiments, I should not find any happiness in this alleged..._flattery_... 'if hair be wires, black wires grow on her head'...what gentleman would say such a thing about she whom he apparently admires? Her breath reeks? Then by all means, sir, depart from me!"

Miss Darcy's attention was quickly and acutely returned at this speech, "Oh no, Miss Younge, I feel quite differently! Yes, this sonnet does not sing of unearthly praises in the way that so many sonnets before and after have, but how often have I read about 'eyes like the sun, the moon, the stars' or 'soft golden hair' or 'eyes like an angel'? This man does not possess an angel in his heart, but a _human_! I find these sentiments very romantic, indeed! Despite her lack of rosy cheeks, red lips, musical voice, or wings of an angel for transport...he loves her because she is _his, _her virtues are _hers_, not exaggerated or imagined to be greater than they are." Miss Darcy looked once again out to the sea, the horizon of which was beginning to draw in the setting sun, and continued, "I should think, I should _hope, _that a young man who admires me...would admire what is real about me. I care not about unearthly things, none of which are applicable to myself. I do hope that a man can see what in me is _human _and praise it as worthy of his affection."

Miss Younge's lips curved into a triumphant smile at Miss Darcy's speech. Miss Darcy's own golden curls were silhouetted by the setting sun, the flush of her cheeks was no longer that of embarrassment but that of the passion in debate, her brow was slightly knitted and her eyes were wild with her romantic notions of truth and honor. "Very good, Miss Darcy. That was a true critique of Master Shakespeare's finest work. Now, shall I always expect to have to provoke you into giving your opinions? I cannot follow you around the _ton_, you know. You will have to impress the gentry on your own. Just remember that you have opinions and they are valid."

At that moment Mrs. Smith came with the day's post and the ladies returned to the house for tea. Georgiana, having received a letter from her cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, settled herself on the sofa. Before reading her own correspondence, Miss Younge studied her charge for a few moments. The young girl would be turning 16 in August, only 2 months away. Miss Younge had been Miss Darcy's governess since the passing of Old Mr. Darcy, when the care of Miss Georgiana's future fell upon the late Mr. Darcy's son, Mr. Darcy, and nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana was 11 years old when she began her education with a governess, and already her accomplishments were impressive. The Darcy family took great pains with their two children and those pains showed in Mr. Darcy's demeanor, principles, and intellect. Unlike her brother's dark features, Miss Darcy was fair - though she stood taller than most women. She had a graceful air and a sweet smile, her eyes were always full of eager curiosity combined with a calm reserve - a quality Miss Younge knew eligible men would find intriguing if only she would allow herself to be drawn out just a little.

Miss Younge had never been to London prior to being hired by the Darcy family. Her father was a humble tradesman on the Irish Coast and her mother the daughter of a struggling aristocrat. Her education took place in the home of her mother's wealthier sister, in a village only thirty miles from her home. After the death of her parents, Mrs. Younge was never forgiven by her family for her sin of marrying into trade. Despite their own financial problems, the old blood pride was harmed greatly by the condescension of such a match. Still, they agreed to take in and educate Mr. and Mrs. Younge's only daughter - pitying her for having no prospects. They considered their duty to charity fulfilled by providing her with a rounded knowledge of basic accomplishments, so that she may one day find employment as a governess and perhaps catch the eye of someone more successful than her father in the trading sphere. Certainly, she would never catch the eye of a gentleman - with nothing of a dowry to recommend her. So it was that Miss Younge was raised to understand her position: that her duty was to uphold the aristocracy but never to aspire to it. A decent education combined with a want in the true delicacies of accomplished women, Miss Younge turned out to be useful in her station - if a little tactless and ignorant. Her removal from the country to London by the Darcy family shocked her senses initially with all of high society's stimulation. The sting of being on the cusp of the gentry but unable to break through to the surface was forever her fate. In this struggle she found a kindred spirit in a family friend of the Darcys: Mr. George Wickham.

In her five years thus far with the Darcy family, Miss Younge only had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Wickham once. He had come to sympathize with the family's loss of old Mr. Darcy. He was everything amiable and kind, which Miss Younge had never encountered in a gentleman (as she took Mr. Wickham to be) educated at Cambridge. She understood him to be a great scholar and together they spent many pleasant afternoons discussing his dreams of going into law. That he sought her out, spoke to her with such kindness, and on such a level of equality, secured her loyalty to his friendship. She never once imagined herself to be an object of more tender affections for him - for she knew that she was not in the same social sphere as he. He spoke quite often of his status as a son of the late Mr. Darcy; that he and Mr. Darcy were raised as brothers. Though she respected the master of the house with great reverence, she never understood Mr. Darcy's cool reserve around such a man as Mr. Wickham, who was all manners and kindness.

Though she had not the opportunity to see Mr. Wickham these five years, they kept an infrequent correspondence. Mr. Wickham would never write to her while at the Darcy estates in London or Derbyshire, but during she and Georgiana's occasional stays on the coast, Mr. Wickham corresponded quite frequently indeed. She saw no harm in this correspondence which might be deemed improper, for Mr. Wickham was a part of the family in which she was employed. Never having the privilege of close contact with Mr. Darcy, Miss Younge could not possibly know why the distance between Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy was intended by the latter.

It was while Miss Darcy was reading correspondence from her cousin that Miss Younge perused one such correspondence from her old friend.

_My Dearest Madame,_

_I am so pleased to hear that Miss Darcy is doing so well in her French lessons. I must confess that I have devoted many hours to the betterment of her education and it eases me greatly to know that her education these five years has been in your capable hands._

_In response to your enquiry regarding my studies in the Law, I thank you and am pleased to inform you that they are progressing quite as I had hoped. Life in London is tiresome and I find myself exhausted both physically and, I am sorry to say, financially as well..._

At this last sentence Miss Younge sighed heavily. She knew that Mr. Darcy had it in his power to assist his father's favorite financially and it continually baffled her why he refused to do so. A man who so eagerly wished to study the law and improve himself, and it is met with such unexplained stinginess!

_...Being that my studies are recessed for the summer, I find that I should benefit exquisitely in a visit to that delightful cottage. Upon your affirmative response to this letter, I can be there in three weeks' time. I eagerly await your response._

_Yours,_  
><em>George Wickham<em>

Miss Younge was only too happy to affirm that Mr. Wickham was most welcome to visit Miss Darcy and herself. She immediately wrote a brief reply to his letter and requested Mrs. Smith to ensure it be posted as soon as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello readers!, and thank you so much for the alerts, favorites, and the review! It really means so much to me - I am glad that you are into this!**

**This chapter came really quickly, I can't promise that they all will come like this. I did some stuff that I didn't quite expect (the writing process is so fickle!) so be honest and let me know if it works/doesn't work for you. **

**I know that in the novel Georgiana and Miss Younge are staying much closer to London, but I decided to put them on the west coast instead. Hopefully that isn't too terribly off-canon for my readers. I just like the west coast, what can I say!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters or plot lines, they are all the creation of the revered Jane Austen.**

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><p><strong>II-Quite a Lady<strong>

Exactly two weeks and five days after Miss Younge responded to Mr. Wickham's request to visit, and not a moment later, the young man in question arrived at the seaside estate. Having determined that the occasion did not require it, Miss Younge had not mentioned the visit to Miss Darcy - which is not to say the visit was unwelcome to the latter.

He arrived on horseback as Miss Darcy was studying the flowers in her garden. Miss Younge was sitting nearby, marking a writing Miss Darcy had done in French. Hearing the approaching equestrian, both the lady and her governess were quickly brought out of their state of _tedious _routine.

Miss Darcy immediately stood and approached the man as he handed his horse to the stable boy, "Why, Mr. Wickham! Can it be? We have not seen you for..." here she paused and thought a moment.

"Miss Darcy, what a pleasure." Mr. Wickham held out his hand for a handshake, which she willingly bestowed. "It has been five years since my last call to Pemberley. You were only then leaving the nursery and beginning a formal education. And look at you now! Studying botany alongside one of the country's finest governesses. I hope to see that your mind has formed into that of a young lady." At this last statement Mr. Wickham surveyed his young friend's figure. Miss Younge knew that Miss Darcy had everything to recommend her: a slender frame, tall stature, graceful movements, and womanly developments were certain to attract the attention of many men. It did not hurt her any that her hand came with a thirty thousand pound dowry.

When Mr. Wickham gaze did not return to her eyes nor did he continue his speech, Miss Darcy's cheeks flushed and she looked quickly over to her governess with eyes that betrayed of her hesitation. Though she had known him during her childhood, Miss Darcy was unused to conversing with men and Miss Younge knew she was at a loss as to how to steer a conversation beyond the usual pleasantries. Happily for her, Mr. Wickham held out his arm for Miss Darcy to take, eliminating the necessity for producing a new topic.

The lady and gentleman approached the Governess, who stood for a curtsy. Miss Darcy excused herself and went inside to order tea. Mr. Wickham, bowing, gave an amiable smile and surveyed their surroundings before settling on his companion, "Miss Younge, it has been too long. I see you and Miss Darcy are very comfortably situated, and I am glad. How is your charge?"

"She has grown into a charming young lady has she not, Mr. Wickham? She has devoted countless hours to her improvement and I can honestly say I would not have asked for a better pupil. She is going to be introduced to London's society this coming season! Though, I'm sure Mr. Darcy has already informed you of that."

Mr. Wickham's smile did not fade upon her last assumption. Shifting his weight and looking at the house, his smile in fact grew more pleasant, "Mr. Darcy is not in the habit of relating news of such a personal import, I imagine he is confident the news will be spread efficiently once it is in the papers. The Darcys are such a fine, old family that I would wager he is correct in those determinations."

Miss Younge, being no fool, suspected her friend was not being entirely candid - but polite for the sake of politeness. She had suspected Mr. Darcy's distance was such that Mr. Wickham was not informed of family affairs, but had wanted to think better of her generally kind employer. She could not understand how a man with such easy, pleasant manners as Mr. Wickham could have deserved such coldness from a man whose father had favored him so. Not suspecting her opinions to be subject to any blind partiality, Miss Younge allowed a her eyes to pity her handsome friend. Though she herself would never entertain serious wishes to attracting the attentions of Mr. Wickham - she knew that she would always revere him as a model of an amiable and worthy man.

At this time Mrs. Smith came outside to announce tea. Upon entering the drawing room, they found Miss Darcy hard at work with a particularly impressive cross-stitching project. "Miss Younge, Mrs. Elliot wrote inviting me to dine at Atward tomorrow. Their nephew arrived only yesterday and Mrs. Elliot has been meaning to acquaint us."

"Well of course you should go, Miss Darcy. Only take care you prove yourself to be an able conversationalist. I daresay any relation to the Elliots is likely to attend several events at the ton. You would do well to have a few acquaintances by the time winter comes!"

At this, Mr. Wickham's countenance dropped somewhat, "You think she ought to go, Miss Younge? Is this Mrs. Elliot to be trusted in introducing Miss Darcy to a young man?" Upon the confused look on Miss Darcy's face, Mr. Wickham offered clarification, "I would hate to see my favorite little friend fall victim to any match-making scheme. You have yet to come out in society and already here is a bored married woman thinking she should throw you in the way of a young man. What of his character, his principles?"

"You think so?" Miss Darcy breathed, "I hadn't considered it. But Mr. Wickham surely it is not so bad. Mrs. Elliot is such a good lady, not at all scheming and I should not think that a design on me would be necessary." Miss Darcy looked to Miss Younge for confirmation.

At first Miss Younge did not reply to these statements. Instead she studied Mr. Wickham's movements. He took a great interest in Miss Darcy's well-being, and had always done so in what seemed like a brotherly fashion. That he should have a great objection to Miss Darcy associating with a rich and well-established family baffled her. Of course, he had no say in where Miss Darcy went or with whom she associated - that was the responsibility of Miss Younge. "Mr. Wickham, I think Miss Darcy _must _dine at Atward. She has no serious excuse to slight the invitation. What would be thought of her if she did not attend?"

Mr. Wickham said nothing, but leaned back in his chair and stared at Miss Darcy with a contemplative air. Miss Darcy had abandoned her stitching and pretended to arrange different threads in her supply basket. She had picked up a spindle of blue thread for the fifth time before she looked up at Mr. Wickham, who she knew had been studying her for quite some time. Miss Younge pulled out the French writing again to give the impression that she was not overly concerned with Mr. Wickham's disturbing attentions to Miss Darcy, though she could feel a heat rising from her chest and perhaps betraying her a little in her cheeks.

"I must say Georgiana," Mr. Wickham began at last, startling both women in the room with his informal address to the young lady, "where did the little girl go? I can remember her now, begging me to play with her in the nursery, reading a book or playing with dolls..." his stern countenance from before was replaced by a most pleasing smile and his voice took on the animation of recalling a happy past, "she is not here anymore, is she? No, you will go and dine at Atward - whether I would advise it or not, and you will be admired wherever you go. You have become...quite a lady."

**%%%%**

After a great deal more fussing over ribbons and fabric than Georgiana thought necessary, she had been prepared by Mrs. Smith and Miss Younge for a grand dinner at Atward. It most certainly was not the first time she had dined with the Elliots and their nephew, yet it seemed that on this particular occasion she ought to look particularly fine.

Since Georgiana's first official invitation to Atward three weeks since, she had been invited to dine _six _times. If this wasn't a sure sign of Mr. Edward Ashby's preference, Miss Younge would call herself a fool. He had even called at their home with his Aunt, once, and what a fine young man he seemed. Though frightfully awkward, mostly due to Miss Darcy's terrible shyness, the two discussed music and literature animatedly. They were both so eager to please that Miss Younge found amusement in watching them refuse to disagree with the other, even when the reality of disagreement was apparent in their countenances.

Seeing the carriage off, Miss Younge set off to the garden to indulge herself with a novel. Working for such a rich family generally implied that one's time was hardly one's own - and the summer prior to her charge's introduction was particularly trying. These past weeks had blessed her with much welcome privacy to read at leisure.

Settling on the tree swing, Miss Younge eagerly opened her book. It was several minutes later when she realized that she was only looking at the words but what she saw was her memory's impression of Mr. Wickham's eyes. Though he often spent his time in the village and only came back for dinner and an occasional cup of tea, Miss Younge had plenty of time to study his mannerisms around Miss Darcy. He seemed to study her, not with brotherly affection as his letters would so often claim, but rather like a feline eyes its prey. Many times, while watching him, Miss Younge would be discovered by the object of her study. His brilliant green eyes would transform from predatory to tender almost instantaneously, and the variety thrilled her.

Snapping her book shut, Miss Younge placed her hand on the swing beside her and shook her head as if to free it of something unwelcome. If she had intended to lecture herself aloud, she never had the opportunity, for as soon as she opened her mouth as if to speak she was startled by a warm hand lightly grabbing her own.

"Don't be startled, Martha," said a voice only too familiar to Miss Younge. Turning slowly she saw the man she now expected to see, looking at her with the same tenderness to which she had grown accustomed.

"What, sir, is your meaning? You sneak upon me in my reverie unannounced? I am _Miss Younge_ to you," she said almost a little too sternly.

Mr. Wickham made a face of pretend offense, "I am most sincerely sorry, madame, if I have offended you in some way. But you shouldn't be so deceitful, for this is not the first time I have happened upon you thus. You should be quite used to this by now."

Her eyes darkened slightly, "I was _trying _to forget it, Mr. Wickham. I had told you but three days ago that I would not be used so. I know my station and I will not entertain any notions that you have...or ever had...serious intentions. I may be a tradesman's daughter, sir, but I am still honest. I've still my principles, whatever yours are."

"What of your station, _Miss Younge_? I know exactly who you are, whose daughter you are, and yet here I am. Have I tried to lure you into my chamber? Have I come knocking upon your door? Can not you have a little bit of faith in me that I might actually _like_ you?"

At this Mr. Wickham let go of her hand and stepped back, "I know why you are frightened, because we both know how the world works...perhaps too much so because we have both been treated cruelly by circumstances," Mr. Wickham stepped forward again and grabbed her hand eagerly, a relieved look washed over his face when she didn't retract it, "you have been my only friend, my only _true_ friend for five years, Martha. I know I'm not a perfect man...I'm hardly an honest man. But to you I have no need to hide."

She swallowed a lump in her throat but would not dare say a word, so he continued tentatively, "I...have not been studying law in London." He tightened his grip on her hand and looked down at it, though she struggled greatly in trying to pull her hand away.

"What is _this_?" She exclaimed, her eyes wild with the question, "Five years in London, _improving_ yourself? _Rising_ above your circumstances? You scoundrel, how could you lie? Oh yes, circumstances have been cruel to you, indeed! You fool, you come here under such false pretenses, claiming I've been your only friend. I don't even know you! In what else have you deceived me, pray?" She had retrieved her hand and was walking quickly back to the house, but at her last question she turned around quickly to find Mr. Wickham directly on her heels.

"I have not...not in anything else! I was ashamed, Martha...how could I tell you the truth of what I'd done? My time in London has been spent making one bad investment after another. I have been desperate to make myself into a man who could stand alone, but destitute without you. You cannot believe that I had forgotten all that we had shared at Pemberley. Do you think me so inconstant? I may not be all good, but because you exist in me there must be something good enough to carry on for." He closed the space between them, placing his hands on her shoulders and pulling her to him to kiss her.

"No, George," She looked to the ground and pushed him away. "You frighten me, I _don't _know you after all. What of Pemberley, I was eighteen! You could have studied law or even purchased a commission but you did not make a single move to better yourself. I cannot believe that your time in London was only spent making bad investments. Destitute...yes, I can believe you destitute, but in the strictest sense of the term."

She squared her shoulders in an attempt to equal her petite frame to his tall one - if only in manner. Before she had a chance to check the bold accusations that had been stirring her mind, she continued with the question whose answer she dreaded, "What are you doing here? I see how you look at Miss Darcy, and I know you know what she can give you. Can you deny it? What is the meaning of your countenance around her if not mercenary?"

Mr. Wickham did not reply right away, but stepped away from her and began to pull at the bark upon the tree. Miss Younge backed away from him and turned around to look out at the sea, but bowed her head instead to let a single tear drop to the ground without allowing it the dignity of rolling down her cheek.

Mr. Wickham's voice, no longer desperate but defeated, answered her, "I could make a life for us, Martha, and she is the key. You see her blush every time she notices me looking at her, it would be only too easy. I look at her and cannot help but see her brother's likeness. You say he's been good to me, that he trusted me? I haven't heard from the man in five years, Martha! His father, God rest his soul, loved me like a son - and I loved his family like my own. As soon as the father is taken away from me, so is everything else I had grown to know and love. Mr. Darcy was never good to me, but only _barely _fulfilled his duty to his father - for some foolish sense of honor. I could put Georgiana safely away in some country estate, I would not be cruel to her. But my only true wife would be you, Martha - and God would know it. I would care for you, I would not pay any mind to what people say. We could have a place, like this, forever."

She looked at the man who had so desperately declared himself to her just now as he returned his attention to the bark which he was more and more rapidly picking off the tree. Was he suggesting an elopement with Miss Darcy? Surely even he could not be such a fool. Georgiana was expected to be sought after by the richest men of the highest circle (certainly her brother was pursued by their counterparts). She knew better than to think he would seek the consent of Mr. Darcy or Colonel Fitzwilliam. No, she knew he could not succeed in this matter...but her young heart that had fallen in love with him five years ago, and had long since fancied itself cruelly used by his inconstancy, was taking over any sense of propriety which she might have otherwise utilized in this circumstance.

"Mr. Wickham, whatever romantic notions you have of Georgiana Darcy are of no concern to me. At all. Pursue her, if you think you could be so successful, for it shall have no effect upon me. But I warn you, sir, I will keep a particularly close eye on you. Attempt to entrap her by compromising her virtue and I shall take it upon myself to see that you know justice fitting such a man as you are. Try then, sir, to win her with your _charm_. It shouldn't be too hard, it had worked once on a stupider girl."

At that she turned and ran into the house.

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><p><strong>WHEW! So how did that work for you guys? Is Mr. Wickham so bad after all? What of Miss Younge? I'm trying to build some character flaws while still keeping these people <em>human<em>.**

**I hope I didn't jump into the Wickham/Younge thing too quickly...but as they are not a central coupling I didn't want to spend too much time building up to the reality there. Did you see it coming? I wanted to give the impression that Miss Younge (from whose perspective I am writing) was denying the truth about herself and Mr. Wickham. **

**I would so gratefully welcome any suggestions or criticisms (constructive, of course)! And THANK YOU for reading! I am honored.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello Readers! I cannot thank you enough for your reviews, favorites, and alerts...I am truly so honored!**

**I wanted to respond to Ivy2010's question about whether I was sticking with canon or not. My answer is: kind of. I want to keep the canonical characters, propriety, and writing style (as much as possible - though I would never claim to be as talented in any of these things as Jane Austen), but I do have some plans with the plot. You will see, I will spice it up!**

**I wanted to advertise that I am currently looking for a willing beta-reader. I'm not sure if this is the proper way to ask for one, but browsing for and cold-messaging from the beta list has proved unsuccessful. If anyone is willing, please let me know!**

**I had forgotten to add my disclaimer! I own nothing recognizable (Miss Younge, Miss Darcy, and Mr. Wickham), they are all the creation of the lovely and revered Miss Jane Austen!  
><strong>

**Aside from that, please enjoy!**

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><p><strong>III-A Conquest<strong>

_21 January 1807_

_My Dearest Martha,_  
><em>It has been four months since I left and I have not forgotten your kind letter, which you graciously sent shortly after quitting Pemberley. The time I have spent in London has been eventful and I know you would laugh greatly at my expense if I were to tell you all. Firstly, I met a man called Fletcher who convinced me to compete with him at billiards against a group of positive dandies at a local club. His suggestion turned out to be quite beneficial, and we were soon revered as quite the team to beat! Once the games turned to cards we quickly fell from glory. You won't believe me when I to tell you that it was not <em>_**my **__face which gave us away, but __**his**__! You always said that I would be useless at cards because everything I was feeling was so easily read upon my face - but what of this tale, my dear Madame? I can see your face as you laugh at it, and what a lovely picture I have envisioning it!_

_So as you can see I am getting on quite well in London, I am hoping my luck comes back to me after this last turn. Regardless of all, it is empty when I have not my Martha to speak to at the end of the day. I have not forgotten what we spoke about, and when I have something substantial to offer you I will take you away from Pemberley. My word is good, you shall see._

_Yours most sincerely,_  
><em>George Wickham<em>

This letter, which had accompanied Miss Younge with her everywhere for the past five years, was torn apart and tossed angrily in the fire. It had been the only letter he ever addressed to her at Pemberley, and the only letter in which he referenced their short romance. With bitter tears she recognized she had failed to understand that George Wickham had been gambling away all of his money from the moment he arrived in London.

When he had written to her years later of Mr. Darcy's refusal of the living the late Mr. Darcy had wished him to take, and that her employer had already offered that living to another, she had been furious. She had thought Mr. Wickham nothing but honorable and cheated by circumstances - never did she think he would be a cheat, that he would cheat her. But he had. He had painted of himself a glorious picture and she was only too willing to believe in it. And _now _he was determined to have Miss Darcy! Worse yet, _she_, Miss Younge, had dared him to attempt it!

"Oh, Martha, you are not fit for even the station of governess. Employed to shape a girl into a proper lady, and you have deliberately thrown her at a worthless cad!" It was too much, and she could not bear it. She grabbed the object nearest to her, a music box given to her by Miss Darcy on her birthday, and threw it at the mirror that held her despicable reflection.

Shocked at her wildness, a defeated Martha sank into her chair and stared out the window as the sun began to give way to the horizon. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing - a trick her mother had taught her when she was upset as a child. "Oh, Georgiana," she said after a few moments, "please be wiser than I was. Nothing can save you now if you have the same misfortune of believing an amiable man merely for being amiable as I have had."

* * *

><p>"Check mate."<p>

Edward Ashby, who had been watching Miss Darcy's animated eyebrows as her mind formulated her next move, was startled back to the chessboard, "Again, Miss Darcy? Impossible! You have only a knight and a bishop..." he studied the board, certain his component had mistaken her success (for she once before thought she backed him into a corner by her queen, but had completely disregarded his bishop). Luck, it would seem, had only graced his game once, and it was with a bittersweet feeling that he tipped his king - for he hated to lose but delighted in seeing Miss Darcy pleased.

"Bravo, Miss Darcy!" exclaimed Mrs. Elliot, "there now, Mr. Elliot, perhaps _you _would not be so impervious if you competed with our guest instead of challenging your poor wife who never cared a straw for strategy!"

"Mrs. Elliot, I cannot subject myself to such a competition. Chess is the one thing in this house that I have championed over you - and I cannot forfeit my sense of accomplishment there, it is much too dear to me!" Mr. Elliot said as he peeked lovingly at his wife over his book. Mrs. Elliot laughed and continued her knitting as Mr. Elliot turned his attention to their guest, "Miss Darcy, I congratulate you. You needn't be so concerned about the impression you leave in London as long as you keep that head about you."

Miss Darcy bowed her head and thanked her kind hosts for their compliments. She and Mr. Ashby promptly continued a conversation they had been having earlier about an exciting and scandalous new writer he had been studying - Lord Byron. Mr. Ashby, of course, withheld any details that would be deemed unfit for the sensitivities of a lady.

Mr. Elliot approached his wife so that he may speak to her without being overheard, "Well, Mrs. Elliot - and what do you think? Our nephew seems to be quite intrigued by our young friend, does he not?"

"My darling, you know that nothing serious will happen here - though he's a good young man, Edward is only a second son. Miss Darcy is going to be one of the finest young ladies in England this winter, and Edward knows his chances there. I'm afraid that any speculation will go unsatisfied. Though, as we are on the subject, I cannot figure out why Mr. Darcy - a man who is so careful in society - and Colonel Fitzwilliam would introduce her at so young an age!" Mrs. Elliot had place her project on the table and stood to refill her wine, which allowed she and her husband to retreat further away from their subjects.

"Ah, that is curious but I believe I can see why it would be beneficial for her. Surely Darcy and Fitzwilliam do not intend to consent to a marriage at her age, but she is remarkably shy. With no mother or even a sister at home and two bachelors as caregivers, Miss Darcy would benefit quite tolerably from social interaction at an early age."

At this time Miss Darcy stood to take her leave, for dusk was setting in. Mr. Ashby sent for her carriage and escorted her to the front hall. Mr. Elliot continued once they left the room, "And you are certain that we will not see any developments between Miss Darcy and our nephew? I have never seen her so lively! Surely Mr. Darcy is not so concerned with the conventions of society as to refuse a Lord's second son? Colonel Fitzwilliam himself is quite similar in station!"

"Mr. Elliot you are too hasty! They are both so young and we've already agreed Miss Darcy will likely not be subject to any romantic pursuits for a couple of years yet. Edward returns to London tomorrow and with him preparing to take orders who knows if they shall see each other again." She considered the last part of her husband's enquiry before she continued, "I do not think Mr. Darcy or Colonel Fitzwilliam would deny their Miss Darcy true happiness in marriage. To be sure, our nephew comes from a fine old family and though a second son, Edward is perfectly acceptable in the highest circles, I should say. Regardless, I'm quite certain that it is our _nephew _who already knows he would stand little chance with such a lady."

* * *

><p>Georgiana had only just arrived home, the liveliness in her face from her night at Atwood still apparent, when she espied Mr. Wickham leafing through a book on the tree swing in the garden. Upon her arrival, he had looked up and smiled at her in the affectionate way that still brought color to her cheeks even after three weeks. She bestowed a brief curtsy and bid him good evening as he approached her, and turned to go indoors.<p>

"Miss Darcy, why quit me so suddenly? It is a nice evening, is it not? Will not you join me for a view of the sunset?" Mr. Wickham said in his most jovial voice.

Miss Darcy's countenance lost any remaining confidence and her eyes took on the doe-like fear that often accompanied her talks with intimidating persons, "It is a very nice evening, Mr. Wickham, but Miss Younge should join us if we are to view the sunset. Besides, I have not my shawl..."

At a loss as to how to continue her excuse, Miss Darcy smiled and blushed as she lowered herself into another curtsy before leaving a very jovial Mr. Wickham in the garden. From a second story window, Miss Younge watched the brief interaction, terrified that she might witness the result of her rash words all but too soon.

Over the course of the next week, Miss Younge sat quietly in the evenings as she watched Mr. Wickham charm Miss Darcy. He attentively listened to her play the pianoforte and sing, the hungry expression he had worn before now replaced by the kind and tender one Miss Younge had thought reserved for herself. Miss Darcy's reaction to Mr. Wickham's expression of kindness did not change - she still blushed at his attention and only kept eye contact for brief moments. When engaging her in conversation of any sort - Mr. Wickham would not take any opposing views, though Miss Younge knew he spoke opinions often times which were not his own.

It was at the opening of the second week after her and Mr. Wickham's conversation that Miss Younge started to greatly fear for Miss Darcy. In particular, it was during a game of vingt-et-un in which Mr. Wickham was dealing.

"Another six, you're at twelve now...what say you?"

"Hit me"

Mr. Wickham laid down a nine, "another one, Miss Darcy! What type of witchcraft are you studying with Miss Younge?" Mr. Wickham shot a mischievous look at the woman in question, who took a deep breath before turning her eyes again to her novel.

"I assure you, Mr. Wickham, no witchcraft is necessary. I am simply _quite _talented at guessing the odds. Mind you don't start playing tricks on me and stack the deck against my favor!" Miss Younge's attention was brought back to the couple by Miss Darcy's bold statement. To be sure, it was not rare to hear two people having a pleasant time teasing one another, but Miss Darcy (so Miss Younge thought) had not the disposition for teasing.

"I would never dream of it, Miss Darcy," and at that he began to shuffle through the deck, not so indiscreetly pulling out certain cards and placing them on the top.

Miss Darcy laughed (a rare sound) and reached for the deck, which Mr. Wickham held out of her reach, "Mr. Wickham you are a scoundrel!" Miss Younge's breath faltered for a moment as she recalled the last time Mr. Wickham had been called such, and under very different circumstances.

Mr. Wickham seemed to recollect the same scene as Miss Younge, as his countenance dropped slightly and he glanced at Miss Younge with a look that suspended her breath even longer. He recovered quickly, however, and Miss Darcy did not notice the exchange before he replied, "a most cruel accusation, Miss Darcy! How can you know that I was not stacking the deck _in _your favor, hmm?"

"I would not have it that way, Mr. Wickham, for I find cheating disagreeable. Do not have me think you disagreeable, I beg you!" Miss Darcy's eyes were wide and bright, and spoke openly of her feelings for her companion.

Miss Younge stood abruptly, startling the other occupants of the room, "Mr. Wickham, it is late and Miss Darcy has an early dance lesson in the morning. I must insist that we retire for the evening, I'm sure they're missing you at the _pub_?" She nearly lost her indifferent air to the vindictiveness of her last words, and immediately regretted it.

Miss Darcy's wide and inquisitive gaze looked upon her governess in confusion and Miss Younge tried to smile reassuringly. Having realized that it was quite decided that the evening's pleasures must be concluded, Miss Darcy curtsied and bid the two good evening before retiring.

Miss Younge saw Mr. Wickham to the door as he most certainly was not finished enjoying his evening and was determined to find his pleasure in the village. Before he left he turned to Miss Younge with hard expression on his face, quite unlike anything she had witnessed upon him before, "Miss Younge, I see what you are about and while I appreciate your concern I will have you know that I _do _keep my word. Though you never gave me opportunity to respond to your request on _how _I court Miss Darcy, do know that I have nothing but the most honorable of intentions. Perhaps you have not noticed but I have been enjoying the time I've spent with her, while you read your book so grave and serious."

Miss Younge took a step closer to Mr. Wickham, and looked him directly in the eye with a determined look, "Miss Darcy has a dance lesson in the morning, Mr. Wickham, _that _is what I'm about. I may be grave and serious, but only because I refuse to put on a charade for any purpose. Allow me to clarify for you, dear sir, that your intentions are _mercenary_, not honorable. Perhaps you don't plan to force her into marriage by way of ruining her, but you would ruin her nonetheless were you to convince her to elope. _I _sleep soundly at night knowing that she would not take one step towards Gretna Green without knowing her brother and cousin approved. I only await your disappointed hopes when she insists you write to her brother upon your offer."

Mr. Wickham smiled brilliantly and tipped his hat, "your underestimation of my talents is most inviting, Madame," and at that he left the house.

* * *

><p>Though Mr. Ashby had left his Aunt and Uncle for London three weeks prior, Miss Darcy still dined with her neighbors frequently. The loss of her friend did not affect her quite as acutely as Mr. Elliot had expected, and he was forced to resign to his wife on yet another subject: the successful study of the character and feelings of a young woman. Tonight, Miss Darcy enquired if they had heard any word from their nephew, but it seemed to be an enquiry of the polite sort, and not of an attached young lady. Perhaps Mr. Elliot had judged the previous change in her countenance incorrectly.<p>

After seeing her off, Mr. Elliot kissed his wife's forehead and held out his arm for her to take, "My dear Mrs. Elliot, we have had the pleasure of the company of such a fine young lady. Perhaps I'd only hoped to see a preference for Edward in her because I wanted to welcome her into our home as a niece! These match-making schemes are far too exhausting, and I declare I shall never get my hopes up again - for this one has me left me discouraged and disappointed." He peered at his wife with a feigned look of self-pity that she understood to mean his dashed hopes and dreams were only partly serious, and mostly in jest.

Mrs. Elliot placed her hand over her husband's and smiled up at him warmly, "you've a kind heart, my dear, and wanted to see happiness brought to two charming young people. But you'd begun your scheme too early! I will do you the favor of not imparting to Mr. Darcy that you had planned on marrying his _fifteen_year old sister to Mr. Ashby, no matter how amiable a match it might be!"

"You are too kind, my lovely wife."

* * *

><p>Upon arriving home, Miss Darcy once again encountered Mr. Wickham in the garden. Having remembered her shawl this time, Miss Darcy repeated the desire to have Miss Younge present.<p>

Mr. Wickham had been ready for Miss Darcy's propriety, and excused Miss Younge, "Miss Younge is ill tonight else I would have certainly already invited her outside. Do not worry, we have always been good friends, even when you were a child!" Mr. Wickham beckoned her over to the tree swing. For lack of courage to beg her pardon, she complied.

"Miss Younge tells me it is improper for a young lady to spend time with a man un-chaperoned, Mr. Wickham. Even when I was young, we always were in the company of others," she looked at her folded hands in her lap as she sat on the edge of the tree swing.

Mr. Wickham stood distant enough to not alarm her, "and what of old friends?"

She smiled shyly and said quietly, "I have not forgotten what good friends we were. You were always so happy to play with me when my father and brother were occupied with their business affairs."

"Georgiana..." Mr. Wickham began. Georgiana looked up with renewed shock and fear on her face. He sighed at her renewed modesty, "Miss Darcy, forgive me. I do not like to see you so afraid; It was not so when you were a child and I had thought you were improved this last week. Is your brother truly so demanding of you that you that you fear even the tiniest misstep?"

Miss Darcy recovered her countenance quickly at the implication of her beloved brother's character, "Oh, no Mr. Wickham! You quite mistake the matter, it is _I _and I alone who demands so much of myself. Of course my brother is the model of a perfect gentleman and I would be ever so ashamed to disappoint him - however the pressure to perfect myself comes from me! I apologize for being so shy, I feel as though the friendship we shared five years ago and any acquaintanceship we have now are two entirely separate entities. Everything in my world is so different now than how it was as a child."

"Yes," here Mr. Wickham's voice lowered a register, "You are not a child, Miss Darcy, as I am sure you must know I have noticed." His smile now was not as friendly as he saw Miss Darcy's confident composure escape her again. He breached the propriety which she was so careful to follow by claiming her hand in his own, and kissing it softly before covering it with his other hand, "I had no purpose in visiting here this summer but to pay a visit to my two friends. I certainly did not consider that you would grow lovely, as you have." She turned her face away coyly, unable to meet his eyes for her embarrassment, but she did not attempt to withdraw her hand.

"Mr. Wickham, please..."

He interrupted her, "I had no intention to stay here six weeks, in fact I have deferred plans in London twice now because my friends had been expecting my return earlier. Do you understand my meaning in all of this?"

"I'm sure I do not. Mr. Wickham, please," she pleaded a second time, now attempting to regain her hand from his tender yet steady grasp.

"Miss Darcy, it is because I cannot quit your company. I cannot take myself away from the sound of you playing the pianoforte, the way you recite poetry, or your laugh when I have amused you. I have become enraptured with the beautiful young lady who was once my young friend. I have tried to tell you with my manners but you are too modest. Please allow me to tell you now, Georgiana!"

"Mr. Wickham!" Miss Darcy seemed to muster enough courage to pull her hand from his own and backed away from him breathlessly, "I...please allow me to return to the house now." Her eyes took on the becoming look of those about to cry, and her breath staggered as she inhaled. She pleaded again, "Please, sir, this has been too much, and I must retreat..."

Mr. Wickham smiled warmly at her and bowed, "Miss Darcy, forgive me. I have gotten carried away by the strength of my affections. Take all the time you need to consider what I have said. I do not wish to rush you into anything, I only wanted to declare my feelings."

Miss Darcy walked quickly past him, her heart rate severely quickened by an intense mixture of fear and happiness.

* * *

><p><strong>As always I welcome your reviews and constructive critiques! Thank you for reading!<strong>

**Coming up next:**

**Mr. Wickham and Miss Darcy advance further in their courtship**

**We meet Mr. Darcy (!), and he's not so happy when he visits his sister...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! I know this has taken waaaay too long to put up and I apologize. It's been a crazy couple of weeks with job interviews and such - but finally this chapter is here. Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, and alerted my story!**

**I want to thank Ayannamoonmaiden for her marvelous help beta-reading this chapter. Thank you thank you!**

**You will notice a scene in this chapter from the 1995 movie. As I can hardly read the book without that movie playing in my mind...it's pretty much canon to me :)**

**Enjoy, and thank you for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pride and Prejudice or any of its characters. They are the creation of Jane Austen.**

* * *

><p>Two gentlemen of the highest circles in London society were spending a properly idle afternoon in the billiard room at the esteemed Darcy House in the most affluent part of London. The two met at Cambridge and had remained close ever since.<p>

The younger of the two, Charles Bingley, had been a capital Cambridge student: amiable and conversational, he always gave an air of a studious pupil. Though his marks did not reflect any particular genius, Mr. Bingley's professors always took pleasure in his presence and declared him a remarkably smart-seeming fellow.

The same could not be said for Mr. Bingley's companion. Fitzwilliam Darcy was unaware - though it might be safe to say that he was rather unaffected by the reality - that the chief goal in attending university was to form a network of worthy companions and to have the status of an educated gentleman. Always interested in more scholarly pursuits - for a book or a chart was easier to understand than another man - Mr. Darcy took a serious interest in the advancement of his education. That he had made a friend at all was surprising, even more surprising is that this friend should be Mr. Bingley. They were, however, very good friends to one another - though one's disposition did not seem to influence the other's.

"Darcy, it nearly slipped my mind!" Mr. Bingley said with an air that the news he was about to relate was monumental. Mr. Darcy's concentration did not leave his cue at his friend's excited intrigue, for he knew that most of the monumental news Mr. Bingley had to offer was rarely something over which to scratch at billiards.

Mr. Bingley, his blue eyes dancing with the excitement of his following statement, did not wait long for his friend to acknowledge him before he continued anyway, "I have just received a letter from Caroline this morning, and she says that the Hursts are most eager to join us for the London season. Add these new additions to your sister, Ramsay, and the _very _lovely Miss Worthings..." Darcy's stern expression broke into a slight smirk at this last remark, which his friend did not notice, "Georgiana will have a splendid first season, I should think."

"Bingley, while I appreciate your enthusiasm on my sister's season in London, I believe you mistake matters. Georgiana would welcome a large party of foolish girls and dandies as easily as I do now or ever have."

"Good God, Darcy! What a snob you are. How will Miss Darcy gain popularity with such a brother?"

"She needn't be a favorite, Bingley. It's a wonder I'm still going through with this scheme at all." Not for the first time, Mr. Darcy felt the shadow of doubt regarding his judgements as Georgiana's guardian. Though she was sweet, obedient, and easy to dote upon, Fitzwilliam Darcy had never accepted himself as fully suitable for the responsibility of such an important task. His beloved parents had shaped his principles, his concept of honor and duty, and his idea of love. He could not believe that he possessed, in any adequate proportion, these values which he wished to bestow on his young sister.

Mr. Bingley approached his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, "You have done a remarkable job in your father's stead, Darcy. I have spent these 5 years watching your struggles as guardian to Georgiana and as master of Pemberley, and remaining one of the finest men I have ever known. There are not many men, and I include myself here, who would have amounted to half of what you are."

Mr. Darcy nodded his head in acknowledgement of this sentiment, "Thank you, Charles. You praise me more than I deserve, but I confess it is not unwelcome."

In companionable silence the two friends continued their game. Later that afternoon Mr. Darcy was reading the last letter he'd received from his sister; it had been written four weeks prior and he had responded promptly. Georgiana was an admirable correspondent and her delay in replying to him what most uncharacteristic. Worried that her nerves were finally beginning to take over her studies, Fitzwilliam Darcy decided to cancel his plans for the next weeks and instead head north to see his sister and reassure her that she need not come to London that winter if she did not want to. Indeed, most seasons Mr. Darcy preferred anything but London and its society so much that - were Georgiana to share his sentiments - it would not surprise nor disappoint him in the least.

* * *

><p>Miss Younge was certain that she was wholly indifferent. That her stomach ached - each time she saw a blush on Georgiana's cheek or heard Mr. Wickham's voice lower flirtatiously - was entirely a coincidence; she believed the feeling to be akin, perhaps, to indigestion - but certainly not jealousy. Mr. Wickham's declaration two weeks since that he enjoyed the time he spent with Miss Darcy was still (as Miss Younge believed and intended to continue to believe) just as much a part of his plot as ever, and it did not signify that his face genuinely lit up when the young lady was present. Indeed, Mr. Wickham was always favored where he went; he had a talent, Miss Younge knew, in giving pleasure where it benefited him. Certainly, in this circumstance, giving pleasure was beneficial - and being pleased was in no way disagreeable. It was with these types of thoughts that Miss Younge determined not to over-think the topic of Mr. Wickham, and she reminded herself of this each time he begged to hear Miss Georgiana play, or to watch Miss Georgiana paint, or to fawn over Miss Georgiana's floral arrangements. Yes, Miss Younge was absolutely certain that on these things her indifference could not be more absolute.<p>

Apart from her new found delight in courtship, Miss Darcy was passionately fond of playing her pianoforte. Her gift allowed her to play with feeling, giving her the ability to pass through her other activities in perfect serenity. Miss Younge had not thought it necessary to truly worry for Miss Darcy's safety so long as she continued to improve and maintain focus in this favorite object.

On a particularly quiet evening, for Mr. Wickham had gone into the village to enjoy the company to be had in the pubs, Georgiana and Miss Younge were playing a duet. The former found focusing on the sheet of music particularly difficult and often found her attention sharply drawn back to her task by performing errors. Once a particularly crucial movement had been misplayed, Miss Younge removed her hands from the instrument and looked at her pupil in exasperation.

"Miss Darcy, you have played this piece remarkably countless times!"

Miss Darcy looked down with a blush, "I am sorry for it. I cannot seem to concentrate lately!"

"Perhaps you have not been spending enough time practicing. It is not much longer now until your brother arrives and you go back to London. He will want to see some progress, Miss Darcy."

"Yes, I will be leaving soon…and I do not wish to displease him," Georgiana had said these words with more contemplation and sadness than the situation required, and Miss Younge could guess why.

"But this is not only for Mr. Darcy. Do not _you _wish to excel; to be pleasing company among the ton?"

"Oh I _must_ be pleasing among the ton, certainly. It is what I have been bred to do and it is what is expected," she sighed, "but Miss Younge, lately I have felt nothing for the prospect of society. I feel as though I could be perfectly happy in a quiet situation, without needing to display all of these silly accomplishments."

"Are they so? My dear I think…I believe, that you are being poisoned by Mr. Wickham's flattery. His tastes, though I am sure admirable, are not so refined as the gentleman with whom you will be acquainted."

Miss Darcy looked at her governess, eyes wide half with romance and half with sadness, and almost whispered, "and what of those gentlemen? Perhaps I do not have any need to secure _their _admiration, _their _love?"

"Have you any reason to believe that you have secured someone else's heart, then?"

"Oh, Miss Younge, he loves me! He declared it so only last night!"

Miss Younge's face paled as she felt her worst fears were beginning to be realized, "Miss Darcy do be serious, you know your brother would not approve. You are far too young to be in love."

"I know Fitzwilliam would not approve," said Georgiana of her brother, "not at first, but I am sure he would after he saw how loved I am...oh Miss Younge, how much George loves me!"

"And so, when does Mr. Wickham plan to speak to Mr. Darcy of his intentions?"

Georgiana did not answer immediately, and moved to straighten the music. She managed to school her expression and smiled a comforting smile, "Oh I am only speaking of romantic notions right now. Mr. Wickham has not made any offers. I shall practice harder, I am sorry for my slip in concentration."

Romantic, indeed. Miss Younge could feel her pulse as it beat strongly in her head, certain that her pupil was hiding a plan of something extremely detrimental. Seeing that Miss Darcy was determined not to speak on the topic anymore, but was instead focused on practice, Miss Younge moved towards the window and looked out to the road. Miss Darcy glanced after her governess nervously, playing her song with growing speed.

* * *

><p><em>29 July 1811<em>

_Dear Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy,_

_I must beg of you to come to Ellesmere Port as soon as you might be able. Miss Darcy and I have had as our guest Mr. Wickham these eight weeks and I begin to fear the likelihood of imprudent events._

_Without any wish to damage you or Miss Darcy, I cannot say more. I await your arrival as soon as you are able._

_Sincerely,_  
><em>Martha Younge<em>

Oftentimes one experiences unfortunate events in what seems a disjointed manner and never questions the coincidental nature of said events - for, after all, life itself is ridden with trials and luck is made, not given. It is only on the rare occurrence that an unfortunate event is thrown off its course by seeming serendipity that a person begins to wonder at things such as divine intervention. Surely certain happenings could not be merely coincidental, and the angels must have orchestrated the time lines.

For example, Miss Younge - upon hastily writing the above letter the morning after her interview with Miss Darcy - looked up to the heavens expecting to see God himself when she ran outside to express said letter and instead found her employer, Mr. Darcy, the man she had desperately written to come to them, dismounting his horse. Now what could she say for herself when he witnessed a scene in the garden of his little sister gazing out to the sea with Mr. Wickham in a stance suggesting something much more than friendship?

She needn't have bothered wondering what excuses she should make, for the stoicism on Mr. Darcy's visage that usually intimidated her was now replaced with something much more terrifying: something like rage and despair. Mr. Wickham, still unaware of his audience, placed his hand on Miss Darcy's arm in an intimate manner and she, also unaware, turned to smile at him. This movement put her in position to see her brother and, never having assumed a negative reception of her intended, she smiled and excitedly called out, "William!" before running up to greet him.

Mr. Darcy's unenthusiastic response to her greeting, his fixed glare upon Mr. Wickham, and Mr. Wickham's darkened smirk in return, brought all of Miss Darcy's mistaken forecasts of a happy family reunion into perspective. She looked up desperately to her governess, who had every wish of running far off but no command over her physical capacities.

The reckless summer in Cheshire had been brought to a very sudden halt.

* * *

><p>Mr. Darcy noticed an ache in his brow from having held a scowl there for a prolonged period. Though the man had graduated from Cambridge in the same year as he, Mr. Wickham looked at Mr. Darcy from the other side of the gentleman's desk with the self-assured smirk of a school boy. Neither of the men had uttered a word to each other as of yet; it was with silent authority that Mr. Darcy demanded Mr. Wickham follow him into his study. For three quarters of an hour, Mr. Darcy only stared at his childhood friend and hardly knew what question to begin with - let alone what satisfactory answer he could possibly receive.<p>

He decided to begin with particulars of what he already knew, "when were you planning on leaving with her?"

Mr. Wickham had been sitting in a relaxed pose with his left heel resting upon his right knee while picking at his fingernails - a bad habit of his, "it is decided then that my intentions are dishonorable?"

"Do not trifle with me, Wickham, we both know what you are after. Be a man and tell me honestly when you were going to leave with my fifteen year old sister."

"Alright, Darcy, you are correct in assuming that we were going to elope - but wrong about my intentions. The girl practically threw herself at me."

"My sister hardly lets down her reserve around me. You can hardly think I would believe such a ludicrous statement." Mr. Darcy stood and moved around the desk, straightened to his full height (an intimidating prospect), and crossed his arms, "this union will not happen. I absolutely forbid it."

Mr. Wickham smiled in a way that showed he was not discouraged, "but Darcy, we love each other. Is not your sister's happiness of the greatest importance to you?"

"You insist on mocking me? I will suspend disbelief long enough to pose a question to you. I have no doubt that you have made her fall genuinely in love with you - now let us pretend you genuinely love her. Had you any intentions of asking for my consent?"

"She insisted you would not consent until she turned nineteen and that she could not wait so long."

"My disbelief remains suspended, Wickham, but I admit I am astonished that a girl of her disposition would be so bold as you claim. Surely a man in love such as yourself had the good sense to persuade her otherwise?" Mr. Darcy did not wait to hear Mr. Wickham's response to that question, "I have the authority to disinherit her and refuse her dowry."

Mr. Wickham was a deceptive sort of person, but keen on the deceit of others he was not. It took only a moment for him to realize that a man of Mr. Darcy's character would never follow through on such actions, but his face betrayed for those brief moments the exact response that Mr. Darcy was searching for. When he heard of the loss of Miss Darcy's dowry, he sat upright and cursed under his breath. At the end of Darcy's speech, Mr. Wickham was too late in regaining his composure of constancy.

"George Wickham, my sister's happiness and safety _is _of the greatest importance to me, and for that reason I will demand you leave this place within the hour and endeavor to never cross paths with my family again." _Had you succeeded in this elopement I would have slain you upon the first ill treatment of my sister - and for that I know I would not have had to wait long, _he thought to himself. "I have no further business with you, sir," and at that Mr. Darcy opened his door, allowing an all too eager Mr. Wickham to exit. He collided with Miss Darcy, who had been standing only far enough off from the door so as to not seem like too much of an eaves-dropper, and merely glanced at her with full indifference as a gesture that he had noticed her at all before quickly exiting the hall.

* * *

><p>Mr. Wickham had nothing to do but leave, and quickly. Mrs. Smith had been informed by the master of the house that she should have the man's horse ready, and so Mr. Wickham had only to mount and flee. As he moved to do so, the small and silent silhouette of some creature caught his eye in the garden.<p>

She had not moved since her employer had arrived hours before, and her mind had experienced terror, desperation, recognition, and acceptance of what she had done and what it would cost her. Seeing the man - the love for whom had ruined her - as he meant to quickly quit the house (quit her) without even a word, she finally crumpled to the ground.

Her accomplice did not quit as thoughtlessly as she had assumed he would, but rushed to her, knelt, and demanded her gaze by taking her face between his hands and removing it from her own (where she had buried it for crying). She kept her eyes closed and refused to meet his. His mind raced for a way to tell her he would take her away now and somehow they could manage without destitution - but all that he could manage to produce were curses to Darcy for denying him a living; curse Darcy for foiling him at every turn.

"You damn Mr. Darcy his denying you the church - yes, damn him! But damn you the most, George Wickham. Damn your dreams, your schemes, and your games, and every moment you thought I could bear to see you with her!"

Mr. Wickham shook her, almost violently, still unable to bring her to opening her eyes, "_for you_! I never wish to see you destitute, and through foolishness and plots I have tried to make a life worthy enough _for you_!"

"Yes, you've been so very selfless in your quest for my happiness," she spat, "it has thrilled me to see your best efforts laid upon Georgiana Darcy, and even more thrilled am I - beyond belief - that you have gambled away what could have been a perfectly acceptable life for us. You could have had me with your four thousand - I never asked you for more. I was ready to follow you anywhere and into any level of destitution. Now I care not what you have to offer, you may go to hell."

Perhaps he hadn't heard her, because George Wickham had a talent for ignoring items which were disagreeable to his purpose, or possibly he was aware of something in her manner of speaking which informed him that his lover meant the opposite of what she had declare.

He stood and tried to tempt her to stand by pulling at her arms, which she refused. Knowing that staying much longer might lead to unpleasant scenes, he begged her to come with him to London that moment, but the plea was futile. She would not accompany him to any place, and insisted that she had a relative in town with whom she could stay.

Understanding that, even if he did convince her to come away with him, they would have nowhere to go - Mr. Wickham let her stay on the ground as he rode away.

She watched him leave not with sadness; she fancied that she watched him leave with hatred. She had received her salary up to that point in the year and it was enough to travel by post to London. By the time Mr. Darcy had finished consoling his sister for the time and was ready to interview Miss Younge for an explanation of her actions, the woman in question had left.

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><p><strong>Coming up:<strong>

**Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy discuss Georgiana's future**

**We meet some truly charming people: Miss Bingley and the Hursts...**

**Dandying (a word I've just made up) about London, as fine gentle-people are fond of doing...**

**As always, I welcome your feedback and/or compliments! Thank you!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A huge thank you to Ayannamoonmaiden for her help beta-reading! She's super busy with school but still finds the time to help me out and I'm eternally grateful.**

**Thank you to all the people who added this story to their alerts and favorites!  
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**I hope you enjoy! Please read and review, I would love to see more reviews :-)  
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><p>A carriage was ordered to convey the Darcys from Cheshire as soon as possible. The ride to London was mortifying for the sister and painful for the brother. She felt all of her foolishness and the betrayal towards her most favorite person; he felt all of his shortcomings as a guardian and mentor.<p>

At this time it was impossible for either of them to console the other, inner turmoil haunted each too acutely to allow for it. Mr. Darcy felt less inclined to pardon his sister's actions as she to pardon his - however the ache of having almost lost her provided him with enough tenderness to avoid anger towards her careless fancy. Indeed, Georgiana sought wrongdoings in none but herself - including Miss Younge and even Mr. Wickham. She most certainly could not find blame in her brother and had not felt such an inclination for even a moment.

They arrived in London by the week's end and found that they had a guest at their home. Mr. Darcy had dispatched a letter to request the presence of his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam soon after the discovery of the intended elopement; the latter requested and had been granted temporary leave from his post.

The two young men now sat together in the library. Richard Fitzwilliam had an easy and kind temper which endeared his cousins to him in much the same manner as they were endeared to Mr. Bingley. As the second son to an Earl, the young man took up regimentals at a young age and had performed exceedingly well. He had gained a reputation fitting of his family, and for that reputation he felt proud and protective. The young lady whom he had helped to raise - Miss Darcy - was a very dear relative to him. Like Darcy he found doting upon her easy due to her sweet and obedient disposition. He now sat studying the pain in Darcy's expression, without saying a word as yet, not merely out of respect for his cousin's tendency to meditate on matters but also because he shared in the pain.

Finally he broke the tense silence, "I must know if you have gathered from Georgiana that she did indeed intend to elope. You know much better than I that the snake Wickham is not keen on speaking the truth."

"I have not had any success, and I confess it may be for lack of trying. We scarce spoke two words to each other on our way here. I am ashamed and I know she is too."

"I will speak to her, cousin, I know how difficult this must be for the two of you. What of her governess?"

"Miss Younge left before the day was out. A wise choice of hers - for I was not in a state to be polite to that lady."

"You needn't refer to her as a lady, Darcy. She had us quite fooled as to her character. To think she was in league with Wickham! We will be very careful in our selection of the next governess for Georgiana."

Mr. Darcy got up to pour himself a brandy, gestured the bottle to Richard, who nodded, and poured a second glass to hand to his cousin. The tortured thoughts that had been haunting him could not contain themselves any longer, "Richard, she is heartbroken. I had never thought to warn her about deceitful men...I am a fool and I have been the cause of this."

"I knew you'd feel this way and I know that I cannot convince you otherwise. But you are no fool. Georgiana is a wonderful young lady - obliging, well-mannered, and exceedingly accomplished. She has a sweet and trusting disposition that I pray has not been damaged by this. _You _are the only Darcy who has not been taken in by Wickham. Your father was just as fooled as your sister - but I do not call one of you a fool. I call Wickham a disease to good society and I have a mind to hunt him down and do him in."

"To your pardon of my shortcomings as guardian I cannot comment. I know you are disposed to excuse those you love and so I shall have to chastise myself for us both. As to the second portion of your speech, I beg that you do not pursue Mr. Wickham. Were Georgiana ever to hear of such a match I fear what it would do to her nerves."

"Ah, that is what is right and wrong about you. You are far too sensible to act on your impulses, which is almost always advisable - except when it comes to relieving the world of its blemishes. Then I believe that impulses are necessary, and it is why we have been equipped with them."

"You are a military man and know much more on the subject than I. As this regards my sister, however, I would beg of you a second time to repress your impulses."

"Very well Darcy, you will not be swayed, and Mr. Wickham is free for the time. I will take pleasure in the idea that he won't be so lucky once he meddles with a lesser man's sister or daughter." Richard placed his glass on the mantle refilled his cousin's glass, "I shall leave you to your thoughts now, Darcy. I can see that you desire it to be so. I will see to Georgiana."

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><p>Colonel Fitzwilliam had only a little better luck in speaking with Georgiana than her brother, but it was enough to gather that she was indeed heartbroken. The manner of her heartbreak consisted, in equal parts, of the deception of the man she had loved and the shame she had brought to her brother and cousin. The images of Mr. Wickham's indifferent expression and her brother's disappointed one, both towards her, made eating and sleeping near impossible.<p>

Richard was able to hear from her enough to procure the above information, before the slight release of her feelings sent Georgiana into tears. After convincing her to retire for a nap, he felt a little hope. She had not let herself release her emotional distress until their conversation, and he knew that she had taken a first step to healing by way of this initial catharsis. Purging emotions to oneself and perhaps one's confidante was an unfashionable, but extremely useful, trick that Richard's mother had been fond of encouraging in her children when they were young.

The next days saw Mr. Darcy and his sister very tender around one another, but unable to speak many words of the events. Both still blaming themselves entirely, they would not dispense self-forgiveness for some months. Richard set to work in finding Miss Darcy a companion. It had been an immediate and unanimous decision that Georgiana was not to come out this season, and her two guardians wanted her to have the company of a woman with high principle standards as well as an extensive reputation.

Delaying Miss Darcy's coming out was remarkably easy. No announcements had yet been made so long before the season and so no rumors were circulated. The Darcys kept family news mostly to themselves and though Mr. Bingley had known of Georgiana's coming out, he had not yet relayed the news to his sisters. Mr. Bingley had called on the Darcy house upon hearing of Miss Darcy's arrival and was only received by the Colonel and Mr. Darcy. Despite the simple-minded impression Bingley might give upon first acquaintance - he had a good deal of sense and did not ask questions nor make conjectures when informed that Miss Georgiana was not to join the party that season or when asked not to speak of the deferment to anyone.

Mr. Bingley could sense a discomposure and sorrow in his normally taciturn friend, and eagerly enquired to the Colonel if he could be of assistance in any way. Richard replied that he could - if he could recommend a governess or knew of someone who could.

Mr. Bingley had friends from various circles. His father had gained the family fortune through trade, and in those circles the Bingleys still maintained acquaintances. An old neighbor's daughter had just grown up and her governess, a middle-aged English woman of good education and with an extensive reputation, was no longer employed by the family.

After enquiries, formal interviews, and tea with Georgiana, Mrs. Annesley was installed in the Darcy family - a very welcome, well-mannered, and highly principled addition.

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><p>Bingley's family arrived in London at the end of August due to a determination of Miss Bingley's to be present for Miss Darcy's sixteenth birthday. By the guidance of Mrs. Annesley, Georgiana had poured much of her energies into her studies, finding it easy to ignore painful thoughts by doing so.<p>

"Miss Darcy I've been told by the Colonel that you've taken an interest in furniture design of late," Said Miss Bingley one evening some days after her arrival. Miss Darcy confirmed that she had been and Caroline continued, "I adore furniture designs and am absolutely convinced your ideas would exceed those of anyone else. I should be delighted to see what you have sketched."

Georgiana reluctantly produced her portfolio after some convincing, for she had not completed her latest design and she feared some criticism. Her fear went disappointed, and Caroline rapturously complimented the portfolio even after the gentlemen joined them and Georgiana retired to her room.

"Mr. Darcy you have never told me how very talented Miss Darcy is, she is quite prodigious, I am convinced!"

"You have said so of all my sister's skills, Miss Bingley."

Miss Bingley did not take note of Mr. Darcy's bored tone and continued, "I am sure you have seen her little design for a table, is it not extraordinary?" Mr. Darcy made no answer, "Brother, I know you would like such a table yourself in a library once you take an estate. Rosewood and mahogany, and brass wheels!"

Mr. Bingley declared that he would adorn his whole house through with the paintings and furniture designed and created by his acquaintances, once he decided on an estate.

"Oh do be serious, Charles. Most ladies possess little skill for painting or design. You would do better to purchase your furnishings from Gillows of Lancaster and commission paintings from the Masters. Mr. Darcy, I am sure _you _would not entertain such a notion as my brother's for Pemberley?"

"Certainly not, but no owner of an estate truly would."

"Why would you say that?"

"The mistress of the house is in charge of the task: my mother had the duty of furnishing Pemberley. Bingley has the happy situation of furnishing a house which does not exist. In reality he would not make such decisions." Caroline smiled at what she had took as a hint regarding the mistress of Pemberley, but frowned when reminded that she was not presently in charge of even her brother's household - for he did not own one as of yet.

Of all ladies of his acquaintance, Caroline Bingley had been, at one point, the most agreeable to Mr. Darcy. She took great pleasure in discovering the faults of others - something he was also keen on doing while observing ladies and gentlemen. To Mr. Darcy all ladies were silly and gentlemen dandies; to Miss Bingley all ladies were below her in fashion and accomplishments and all gentlemen not nearly so tempting as Mr. Darcy. It was after the Hursts' wedding Mr. Darcy realized with some displeasure that Miss Bingley had grown aware of the necessity of marriage, and her principal object was _him. _Her newfound fascination in him had increased her wit, to his initial delight, but the novelty had quickly worn off once her attention increased exponentially and the chief topic of her conversation with him involved artificial flattery and fawning.

Though Mr. Darcy was always happy to hear compliments regarding his sister's talents, he had come to expect excessive raptures from Miss Bingley in particular. Agreeable though she was, marriage material she was _not. _He had arrived at this conclusion well before she had entertained the idea herself. She was well formed, stood taller than the average lady, and had the fair features of her brother. Her face was certainly pretty, and Mr. Darcy had not found it disagreeable to study at one point. Though undeniably handsome, Miss Bingley's features never tempted Darcy nor moved him to truly admire her. The features were coupled with that haughtiness that he had at one time welcomed, but he now realized was all she had allowed her wit to foster.

The hour struck late, and the Bingleys and Hursts took their leave of Darcy house amiably.

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><p>With the increased expectation of Mr. Darcy's attendance to social outings and Colonel Fitzwilliam's leave coming to a close, the two men decided Georgiana ought to stay in London under her brother's close care. Mrs. Annesley had shown herself to be refined and intelligent such that the two men were ashamed to admit they had not noticed the often crass nature of Georgiana's former governess. Were it not for the uncommonly close attention Mr. Darcy had paid, his little sister might have grown up more wild and unrestrained. By mid-September, Mr. Darcy felt comfortable joining Bingley and other Cambridge friends for short hunting expeditions and leaving Georgiana in her new companion's capable hands.<p>

During some evenings, it was a favorite activity of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley to visit a garden and view the exciting variety of society (even in the off season). The ladies were excessively fond of society and as a close friend, Darcy found himself obliged to visit the gardens when he would much rather avoid the activity altogether. One consolation was the addition of Lord Ramsay to the group during most outings. The man was a Cambridge friend in Bingley's class, and perhaps one of the most ridiculous fellows Darcy had met. His title recommended him to the ladies if his lack of wealth did not, and he was exceedingly interested in recommending himself to Caroline Bingley. The benefit of the spectacle was twofold for Mr. Darcy: distracting Caroline from _her _quest as well as the general amusement to be found in the futility of the gentleman's. The freedom Lord Ramsay had unknowingly granted gave Mr. Darcy leave to stand darkly and silently in a corner and observe the room without taking pains to converse on petty topics.

"Darcy, there you are! I have found Miss Amoretta here with her sisters!" On Mr. Bingley's arm was Amoretta Worthing and flocked around her was her elder sister Margaret and the younger, Louisa.

"Ah! Miss Worthing, Miss Amoretta, Miss Louisa! You did not tell us you were already in town!" Caroline called as she approached the group, Lord Ramsay following closely behind her. She glanced annoyingly at her shadow before returning her attention to the Worthings and saying pointedly, "Have you met Lord Ramsay yet, Miss Worthing?"

"I have not had the pleasure," Miss Worthing curtsied as Mr. Bingley took it upon himself to make the proper introductions. Mr. Darcy studied the group - the Worthing sisters completed the circle of companions that Mr. and Miss Bingley had assembled for the coming season, and Darcy wondered at his passiveness for allowing himself to be surrounded by such insupportable society. Had Georgiana come out this season, the Miss Worthings were simple-minded and laughed excessively enough that they would have offset Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst's harsh attitude towards others. Lord Ramsay was a notorious flirt, but only slightly more scandalous than the innocent (but still excessive) flirtations of Mr. Bingley. Since Ramsay's attentions were focused wholly on Miss Bingley, and he was careful around Mr. Darcy, any chance that he might set his sights on Georgiana was slim. On the whole, the group was easy enough to get on with that it would have been beneficial to Georgiana - but it was nauseating for Mr. Darcy.

"Our father is particularly busy with harvest this year, and mama was anxious as ever to quit the country," Miss Worthing said by way of explanation for their early arrival. The happy circumstance prompted Mrs. Hurst to suggest a gathering at the Hurst's that Friday. The suggestion was agreeable to all and the ladies began to discuss new pieces for the pianoforte, the best colors for the coming season, and declaring long sleeves to be the peak of fashion.

Bingley was smiling in the direction of the second Worthing sister with the same stupid expression Darcy had observed many times before, and then turned to his friends, "Miss Amoretta looks well in blue! I have never seen her hair look so red as when she wears blue!"

"I am sure she is aware of the fact, Bingley, and that your favorite color _is _blue does not hurt her choice I am sure," observed Darcy.

Bingley looked at Darcy with amusement, "Miss Worthing looks well, too – eh, Darcy?"

"Bingley you have attempted this already last spring and I repeat that Miss Worthing is nice but simple and I do not care for red hair."

"Nor blond, nor brunette, nor black, I daresay!" exclaimed Lord Ramsay, "Bingley you have known this man long enough now to ascertain that he is not moved by any sort of hair or dress color, character, intellect, or countenance! It must our unhappy task to charm and admire the ladies, and leave Darcy to his thoughts."

"You quite mistake the matter, Ramsay, for I _can _be moved by intellect and character. I am furthermore not blind to physical charm, but _all_ ladies are agreeable, smart, and pleasing to Bingley's eye."

"None so agreeable as Miss Amoretta, I assure you," declared Bingley.

"She is too short. I prefer a lady of greater stature," Ramsay said while looking in the direction of Caroline Bingley.

Mr. Hurst chose this moment to proclaim himself ready to return home, much to the disappointment of his wife and in laws.

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><p>On Friday morning the gentlemen assembled in the clubs at St. Jame's Street in order to leave Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley to prepare the Hurst house for the dinner party. Mr. Bingley filled his normal role of making fast friends over cards, and in one instance obliging Mr. Hurst to increase the dinner party roster by one.<p>

"Here, Darcy! I've just met a man who spent some of the summer in Cheshire, in Ellesmere Port!" Bingley said while leading a young man who Mr. Darcy took to be very young to the table.

"Darcy?" The young man asked, "I know the name! Are you of relation to Miss Georgiana Darcy?"

"She is my sister, yes. And who are you?" Darcy eyed the young man more severely. He looked like a pleasant and well bred fellow, and had a handsome, smiling countenance without seeming simple or presumptuous.

"Edward Ashby, sir. Pleased to meet you. My Aunt is a friend of your sister's, Mrs. Elliot. I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Darcy during my visit to Mr. And Mrs. Elliot's home this summer. Is she back in London now, I remember her saying she was to return to town for her birthday in August."

"She is in town but she is not in society," Mr. Darcy said curtly, "I know the Elliots well, very good people. I hope you left them in good health? My stay in Ellesmere was very brief and I had no opportunity of visiting the neighborhood."

"I left them in excellent health, Mr. Darcy, thank you. Do send your sister my regards, if you please, and I shall see you this evening," and Mr. Ashby bowed before taking his leave.

Mr. Darcy prayed that the young man and his family did not notice Mr. Wickham's attentions to Georgiana, or his actions in the village. It was brought sharply back into his focus that distance does not erase scandal, and that he could not guarantee that his sister's reputation was entirely safe from ruin. If only she had spent more time in the company of the more worthy Elliots and their nephew, she might have been saved from the trauma altogether. Darcy took it that Mr. Ashby was a young man of better breeding than was Wickham, and he would not have pursued Georgiana without proper leave to do so. Not for the first nor last time, Darcy cursed himself for his great error in trusting Georgiana's welfare to a governess of humble origin.

As it was, the young man in question _had been _intrigued by Miss Darcy, but he knew better of his station in relation to hers. His family was an old family and wealthy, but he was not to inherit the estate as a second son. He was intended for the law, for his mother had great dreams of his becoming a judge, but his sister Eleanor determined through correspondence that he would rather take orders - and she secretly plead his case to their parents. The family was not too proud to deny their son a more humble living if that was his wish, and so this year he began seminary. He compared his future with the possible future of the young Miss Darcy, and knew her to be destined for a higher living. Her brother's obvious affection and his protective response to the acquaintance between her and Mr. Ashby confirmed, for him, that his position placed them in different circles. Were he to admire her, it would be for the same reason that every gentleman must admire her: she had a pleasing face, an intelligent and kind disposition, and a hint of lively passion whenever a rare circumstance could bring it about.

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><p><strong>Next Time:<strong>

Flirtations, gossip, and disappointments

Mr. Bingley falls in love, falls out of love, falls in love, ...

**Reviews, please!**


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